


scream

by edlington (stealingtime)



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: The Wind Waker
Genre: Character Study, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Gen, Racism, Screw Destiny, Whitewashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 12:54:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8891578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealingtime/pseuds/edlington
Summary: tetra is left alone with her thoughts, having been painted into a princess that does not exist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> alt title; 'i have feelings about tetra's whitewashing in ww'

Link and Nohansen had left you alone in the empty Hyrule Castle, and you were proud of yourself for keeping your composure while they were there. When they had left to finish saving the world, you had screamed.

You let howl after howl rip from your throat as you had wandered the castle, throwing pots and breaking mirrors whenever you saw your bone white reflection. The king had given you a title you did not want; he had forced upon you a destiny you despised. An endless cycle of reincarnation, of hero and princess and evil and a battle that no matter how many times you won, you would always have to fight again.

He had named you a princess and taken away everything that made you a _pirate_. Gone were your scarred, calloused hands, replaced by fine gloves and dainty fingers; gone was your dark, sun-marked skin, replaced by porcelain white. Even the warm, deep purple of your eyes that your mother had told you came from your Sheikah blood was gone, replace by the sparkling blue of a clear sky.

You broke every mirror in the damned castle before you stopped screaming.

Your knuckles bled through the white gloves, and you had cackled to yourself alone, tears streaming down your face as you laughed, because _hey, at least my blood looks the same_.

Eventually, you found the princess' room, _your_ room. It was soft and white with golden accents everywhere, and you dragged the big wooden chest out from under the bed and snapped the lock with a dagger you had found. Inside had been dozens of papers, drawings, photographs of Zeldas from days past, Zeldas who had flooded your mind when Nohansen had named you princess. The girl with the soft smile and a harp, the first Zelda, a harp held in her hands and her eyes sparkling and alive against her pale skin. The next, a girl who turned to stone, young and innocent and free, no weapon in her hand but a smile on her face.

The third was different, though- she was young, but fierce, and the drawings showed her with her face covered and in the clothes of a warrior, and when you focused, you could _feel_ the battles she had fought in your veins, the same rush being a pirate gave you sweeping through your body. This Zelda, ( _Sheik_ , something in your mind corrects you) she was a _warrior_ , a fighter, a _Sheikah_. She was not delicate satin gloves and lace underclothes and pale, unblemished skin, and neither were you.

You were _Tetra_ , queen of the pirates, barely sixteen but already feared across the great sea. You had a ship full of loyal men awaiting your return, awaiting your command, and awaiting their _captain_. You did not wield the harp of a goddess or a dainty rapier, but a scimitar, a dagger, a flintlock pistol, your two good hands. You knew that fighting wasn't about precision, or skill, but about not _ever_ quitting.

The next room you found was a washroom, and you filled the tub with steaming water before lowering yourself in. You watched as first your skin turned pink from the heat, but then, as you scrubbed, the dark tan came back, the freckles and moles that decorated your skin and the scars you had fought for and _earned_. Your hair turned from soft blonde to it’s regular color, the dirty blonde of wet sand, and you let it hang wild and loose around your face, rather than in its usual bun.

Clothes were next- not the dress that the princess had worn, but not your pirate clothes, either. Cotton pants, tough enough to withstand a bit of wear and tear, but a linen shirt, cool and loose and soft. A vest that was leather on the outside, but lined with satin, and a soft red scarf that was _almost_ the exact same as your bandana. A golden band to keep your hair out of your face, golden armbands that circled muscular biceps, a ring that was plain but sparkled in the sunlight.

You were Tetra, and you were a princess, yes, but you were not the first Zelda, nor the second, nor the third, nor any others that were out there. You were a princess _and_ you were a pirate. You were rough, with hard edges and muscles from years of climbing ropes and heavy lifting, but you were soft, too, with wide hips and loose, curly hair, and the touch of makeup on your eyelids.

You were not what they expected, what they wanted, but you were still a ruler, and by _goddesses_ if your orders would be disobeyed.

(And when it comes down to the final moments, you bow your head for Ganondorf, because you weren’t what the legends told of, either, and you know what it’s like to be thrust unwilling into a destiny, told you are one thing while you are desperately reaching for another. he gave in, did what you refused to, and you pity him for that, you realize as you shoot arrows of light across a battlefield. he was weak, and scared, and wanted the power to change his fate, and in the end, isn’t that what you wanted, too?)


End file.
